Eleven days ago, a friend of mine brought me some Amish Friendship Bread Starter.
"Now you can write about it!" she said. She’s never read any of my blogs – they don’t have a computer at home as a conscious decision, which boggles my mind. I am BOGGLED by this. But she’s completely awesome, one of those people who live consciously and deeply AND she brings me Amish Friendship Bread Starter, which is the food equivalent of a meme. A meme you have to squish every morning for ten days, at that.
My kids were amused by the big bag of goo and everyone enjoyed poking it when they went by. But all the time that we were taking such good care of a stupid bag of yeast, something else in our house fell neglected, a little bit forgotten in the rush of back to school. And on Saturday, while she was cleaning his fish bowl, The Girl discovered that her beta fish, George, had died.
Well, pet fish die. It’s what they do, their grim little job. But The Girl had him for a year and a half and had taken such pride in being a pet owner, in having some living thing that was her very own. Whenever she had something to write about herself, she would write "I have a fish." as the very first line and for the past year and a half I’ve been bracing myself for this, because pet fish die. Pets in general tend to be pretty poignant, and I have had a LOT of pets and I often think that my heart is now hardened over and sensible… until I walk into the kitchen and find my child sobbing and holding a pretty blue fish in her hands.
And so we had a funeral for a fish on Saturday.
I found myself crying as I dug a little grave in the flowerbed, which surprised me. I didn’t particularly like the fish, although he was pretty enough, so what was with the tears? It is the blight that man was born for… my Girl crying, wordless, and my heart feeling like it had cracked right in two inside of me, with the knowledge that life will have many more times much like this in store for her. And then I had the strangely comforting realization that while I was thinking my painful thoughts, I was also automatically helping my child find the pretty candy box and a piece of silk to line it with, helping her pick the pretty fall flowers and write his name on a rock with a permanent marker. I am an adult, I thought, with an amusing amount of shock.
"GORGE" it now says. She’s a deep feeling child and a poor speller.
Then I went into the house and finally, finally made that Amish Friendship Bread. And the warm slice of sweet bread that I pressed into my sad child’s hands an hour later was saying more than just "EAT, SKINNY LITTLE GIRL!". It was saying that life is still full of sweetness even when we are sad, that love is always, always worth it, even love for something as ephemeral as a pretty blue fish.
And so that is my story about Amish Friendship Bread, written for my friend who will likely never read it, the friend who did not know that this would end up being a story about my child taking one sad step closer to adulthood, that this bread would punctuate my own realization that I’m already there.
I remember fish funerals all too well. When my tank was finally down to only two fish I gave them away to let somebody else deal with the death. Yay, me, how mature. I’m glad you had a funeral though. Closure and all that.
We just got some starter a couple weeks ago too but didn’t give any away because we didn’t have bags big enough to put it in. We ended up making four loaves and it was SICKLY sweet! Ugh!
Aw, what a sweet story! RIP Gorge 😉 You have a wonderful family.
Now I’m off to find out about AFB!
So poignant! I kill every gooey bag of friendship bread that ever enters my house.
Gorge cracks me up. Especially since the fish died from not gorging and The Girl is obviously not a gorger herself if she is so skinny.
Awww! So sad. It is so hard to explain loss to children.
On on the other point, I feel like I’m one of the few people who loves Amish Friendship bread.
Your poor, sweet girl, and poor Gorge. I love her for that. I’m flashing back to our first hamster loss, which almost completely undid my middle daughter. Even her art teacher noticed a difference in her, until some abstract art (which I normally hate) somehow helped her heal.
I can relate to the friends who will never read my blog, and also loved your Hopkins reference.
This post was going so well- in that, I was handling it like an adult until I saw “Gorge” and thought of my own highly sensitive, poor spelling child and our dearly departed I.da Goldfish. I wept, but just a bit. You have my condolences.
My deepest condolences to your sweet Girl.
(I’ve never received any bread starter from anyone. And I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge of massaging it daily and then turning it into bread.)
Ah Gorge.
I hate it when the pets die. The sorrow is so deep and true with no guile.
I’ve got an Amish Friendship Bread started in my freezer right now! A couple months ago this was going around a lot in our MOPS group, and goodness is that bread yummy! This reminds me I need to make up that bread and freeze another starter to have some for later.
So sorry to hear about The Girl’s beloved pet fish passing away; she sure did have him for a long time. Of course it broke your heart – to see your own child’s heart broken and knowing you can’t fix what happened is enough to make any mom cry. Hugs to you both.
I hate fish lots but I’m rather sad for your little girl.
I can’t believe you know someone who doesn’t have a computer. WHOA.
I understand how she feels – I felt very sad myself, last week, when one of my big pink angelfish died.
Another beautiful and moving post – you write so well, Beck.
Beautifully written…
difficult loss…
Think of all the toast!
i’m sorry…i really can’t get past the fact that she doesn’t have a computer. wow. just wow.
Beck, first? So sorry about her loss… 🙁 Poor baby….
But this post? Was really, truly lovely. I always do enjoy your writing…
I love AFB, but I have a hard time keeping track of things like that. But I figured out that there is a GREAT solution! When you get to 10 days, you can freeze the bag! And then you have it when you want it. AND you can freeze the “day one” starter and not have to keep the thing going until you want to.
If you work the math, you don’t have to make four starters at the end, just one for your freezer (or countertop) and then bake the bread from the rest.
Ok, that was waaay more about the bread than anyone wanted to know.
I worry about the pet thing…my son is going to be very sad when my 15 y.o. cat dies. My husband won’t. 🙂
awwww poor Girl and George … a pet death is always sad … maybe we do not want to get fish …
of course you will print this out for your friend to read. with all the comments, too. Hi friend!
pets dying is sad, and of course you cried for your heart breaking child.
of course, I cry at sad commercials, so i’m right there with you.
lovely post as usual! do you remember the cosby show episode (i do and always have loved to watch TV, though i respect those, like your friend, who can do without) where bill supervises the pet fish funeral over the toilet bowl?
Poor Gorge. Rosebud talked about death for about 20 minutes in the car today, making my head spin and making it very hard to merge on the highway. Her conclusion of this long discussion that while Heaven was very, very nice, dying was very, very bad.
May Gorge rest in peace.
Poor Gorge. Rosebud talked about death for about 20 minutes in the car today, making my head spin and making it very hard to merge on the highway. Her conclusion of this long discussion that while Heaven was very, very nice, dying was very, very bad.
May Gorge rest in peace.
Oh this broke my heart. I am sorry that your sweet little girl has already experienced her first tragedy no matter how small. She’s lucky to have a mom like you to help her through.
Amish friendship bread. Oh how I hate to get some. I feel guilty that I don’t have time to do it…and I throw it away most of the time.
Our cat is nearing the end of her life. My son regularly kicks her as he’s walking by her, and my oldest daughter doesn’t seem to care about her at all…but I bet they’ll be sad when she’s gone. Right?
Sometimes I get that shock too, the oh! I’m the grown up here one. And then wonder who will comfort me, who will give me the advice. That’s usually when I say a little prayer or call my mom. Or both.
Great post.
It is amazing how often bread figures into life and death.
Death is sad, no matter the size of the casket.
Poor Gorge. What a lovely post.
Oh, the death of our guinea pig was one of the saddest days in our family history. Luke still talks about it, hoping that every bird that hits our window or squirrel that is squashed by a car will deliver a message to “Doc Ock” up in heaven for us.
RIP, George. Beautiful post.
My Sammy was inconsolable when Juicebox, his fish, died. Juicebox was his pride and joy.
Wow Beck. That was lovely! Truly.
Sorry to The Girl for the lose of her precious George.
Poor George. I hope our Glub-Glub is welcoming him through the Scaley Gates.
All sorts of stinky things can bring unexpected joy: Bettas and Amish Friendship Breads.
I have been thinking of letting my girl have a betta. It will be hard when it dies…I probably shouldn’t try to shield her from that pain, though.
Your timing could not be more perfect, Beck. We have to say farewell this week to our family cat and I am really struggling how to put this into perspective for my kids and help them feel the loss without being overwhelmed by it. I’m glad I am not the only one. Oh, and remembering that I am an adult might just help 😉
‘Tis a rough milestone for them, isn’t it? We lost our first fish when D. was 4. I didn’t think he would care because he didn’t really pay attention to that fish at all. So imagine my surprise when he was beside himself with grief. We had a little ceremony and then he sat by the window, looking out at the patch of direct where we had buried that fish and sobbed for what felt like an eternity to my breaking, mama heart.
This post brought that memory flooding back. You nailed it.
Rest in Peace, dear Gorge.
this is a lovely story…and a lovely way to view loss…I am sure ‘Gorge’ is smiling down from above 🙂
We have no pets and I plan on never having any. My kids might miss out, but I just can’t do it.
Ah, Amish Friendship Bread. I wonder if the Amish really make it?
Our neighbor just suggested fish to us today. (As a pet, not for dinner.)
I am sorry. We also have a beta fish, and it has been alive for all eternity it seems. I check it daily for signs of impending death, but so far it is still alive and kicking. Sad for me, because I really want my table to hold something besides a fish bowl.
You make me think that there should be more “carpe diem” poetry about bread: “then, while time serves, and we are but decaying/Come, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-baking.”
also that bread is like whitman’s grass:
“The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,/
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it”
none of which nerdery is to undermine the fact that loss is real, in the moment, even if we have warm bread afterwards. xo to the girl and to gorge.
Oh ya, I was going to make some friendship bread starter. Thanks for the reminder.
Consolations to the girl.
Alas, poor Gorge, we hardly knew ye!
Poor Girl. Losing pets is the worst. We’ve had our share of this too. But, as always, you have so beautifully expressed it.
You do this so well. I am now remembering the first pet death in our family– LovelyDaughter’s kitten, Fluffy. Agonizing, it was.
Also, love your comparison of Amish Friendship Bread to a meme. You hit it, definitely!
Poor, poor Gorge (yours and mine have similar spelling skills–it’s called developmental spelling–a real thing, I promise!)
I think you should print out this post and take it to your friend. I think she’d like it.
And friendship bread? Oh my. I remember when my son was little and I had a batch of that stuff. You kindly referred to it as a meme. I used to call it a chain letter. It felt like such a responsibility to keep that thing going, although the muffins I made out of it were delicious (I substituted chocolate pudding for vanilla, took out the cinnamon and added chocolate chips. Scrumptious!)
Um… this comment isn’t really on point. Sorry about that. I guess I had a need to ramble.
Sweet post, Beck. It made me think of the reasons we gather for a meal after a funeral or bring food to those grieving for a loved one. Love is always worth it!
Rest in peace, Gorge. Death is a hard concept for kids and fish are good practice, I think.
One more post that tests my Christian virtue, weighing it against my old-fashioned envy. You write beautifully.
My 4YO realized just a few weeks ago that our dog is going to stay dead. No trumpets announcing her imminent resurrection. It was a hard moment.
We have fish that go quite regularly. It is my family job to keep everyone on task: mourn & move on. Apparently, my husband is the softie of our family & it is his job to make sure we mourn properly & appropriately & observe the niceties of death: that the dead fish goes to the brook & not down a drain – no matter the weather – though what we’ll do when the brook freezes over and a fish dies in February, I do not know. I just know I am in charge of the moving on because it is bedtime part & he is in charge of the ceremonies.
Aww. Gorge, you were well-loved.
We have 2 gold fish pushing 2yrs old. I know that the full realization of mortality is a lesson close on the horizon in our house.
This was such a beautiful post, I can’t come up with anything adequate to respond with. But you asked us to comment over here, so I am…
I rarely ever link to posts in a comment, but I’m thinking you need to bring The Girl to my neck of the woods and secretly fish Wanda (a goldfish) out of the koi pond at our local Chinese restaurant. Wanda is The Fish Who Refuses To Die. Seriously.
http://ourlittletongginator.blogspot.com/2008/05/eternal-wanda.html
Poot fish. Poor girl. T. cried buckets when her fish Spike died and even though we have lots of fish, it’s always hard to steel yourselves for the inevitable losses.